Chains of the Forgotten Princess

The great hall of Thandrel Palace glittered, but not with warmth. The chandeliers dripped crystal like frozen tears, casting fractured light over a room full of polished smiles and sharper intentions. Banquet tables overflowed with rare fruits and golden goblets, but the sweetness in the air couldn't drown out the bitter scent of secrets. This wasn't a celebration.

It was a performance.

A trap dressed in silk and silver.

Elira stood at the far end, still and silent, her presence loud without a word. She wore midnight blue—a dress that hugged her like shadows made flesh. A silver circlet rested on her brow, gleaming under the lights. It wasn't a crown, not yet. But it felt heavier.

Every head turned when she entered. But it wasn't awe she felt. It was something colder.

Curiosity.

Suspicion.

Fear.

And she understood it.

She was the fear.

Kael stood beside her, composed as ever. The perfect heir—distant, unreadable. But his hand brushed hers, barely there, just enough for her to feel it. It was the only warmth in the room.

"They're watching us," she murmured, not even pretending to smile.

"Let them," Kael said, eyes fixed ahead. "You broke the sky, Elira. They're not sure if they should kneel… or run."

A smirk ghosted her lips. "And you? What will you do?"

Only then did he turn to face her, his pale blue gaze meeting hers with quiet fire. "Neither," he said. "I'll stand with you."

It wasn't a promise. It was a vow. And it settled in her chest like heat after frostbite.

The sharp clang of the herald's staff silenced the hall.

"Presenting His Highness, Crown Prince Kael Thandrel, and Lady Elira of the Southern Reach."

No title. No acknowledgment of bloodline.

Not yet.

Elira lifted her chin and stepped forward, her every stride deliberate, defiant. She felt the whispers, the stares, the judgment. She walked through it all like a flame through fog.

Kael matched her pace, close and steady.

The Grand Duke of Velhast tightened his grip on his goblet. Lady Marenna leaned to whisper behind her fan. General Vallor's impassive face twitched. They didn't fear her beauty or her gown—they feared her because she'd done what none of them dared.

She'd shattered the Binding Throne.

She'd spat in the face of the Council.

And now, she stood among them—not as a ghost, not as a prisoner—but as something reborn.

Queen Serah watched from the high table, still and cold. Her silver crown gleamed like moonlight on a blade. But it was her eyes that struck hardest—sharp, calculating, locked on Elira like a sword waiting to swing.

The King was absent. Illness, they claimed. But Elira didn't believe in coincidences.

Power in Thandrel never vanished quietly.

"You look well," the Queen said, her voice velvet-wrapped steel.

"I feel well," Elira answered, meeting her gaze. "Freedom suits me."

There. The Queen's smile faltered. Just for a second.

"Indeed."

Kael, ever the diplomat, cut in. "Shall we begin, Mother?"

A nod. And the musicians began to play—a slow, haunting melody that danced between sorrow and danger.

Servants glided through the room with silver trays and crimson wine, but Elira wasn't hungry. Her senses were fixed, tuned sharp like a blade before a duel. This wasn't a feast—it was a battlefield.

"Lady Elira," a honeyed voice purred.

She turned.

Lord Marrin approached, draped in a robe far too extravagant for a man with such a modest title. His smile was all teeth, his eyes too knowing.

"Elira," he said with mock affection. "A night to remember, isn't it? Whispers reach us, even in the dark corners—of temples fallen and thrones undone."

She raised her glass and took a slow sip. "Whispers like to dress in drama."

He bowed slightly. "Perhaps. But I wonder… what comes next for a girl once bound in chains?"

Kael's voice cut in like winter steel. "Careful, Lord Marrin. Not all chains are visible. And not all questions are wise."

Marrin bowed again, slipping away, but the question stuck like a thorn.

What came next?

Elira didn't know. But she knew what wouldn't come.

She wouldn't bow.

She wouldn't beg.

She wouldn't break.

Her eyes wandered across the hall—and caught on someone unexpected.

A girl. No more than sixteen, half-hiding behind a pillar, dressed too plainly for this crowd. But her eyes were wide and burning with something—wonder, maybe. Or hope.

Elira moved toward her.

The girl didn't flinch, just stared.

"Who are you?" Elira asked softly.

"Calla," the girl whispered. "I clean the floors. I—I just wanted to see you."

"Why?"

The girl hesitated, twisting her fingers. "My brother said you were dead. Or that if you weren't… you'd never come back."

Elira crouched, lowering herself to the girl's level. "He was wrong. I came back."

Calla nodded, her voice trembling. "They say you broke something sacred. But I think… I think it was just old. Rotten."

Elira blinked, stunned. Those words—so simple—struck deeper than any speech.

"You're brave," she said.

Calla shook her head. "No. I'm just tired of feeling small."

Elira stood and pressed a cool pendant into the girl's hand—a silver crest of Thandrel.

"Keep it," she said. "And don't shrink again."

Before another word could pass, a harsh clang silenced the music.

The Queen stood.

"Enough merriment," she declared. "It is time we speak of unity. Of future. Of marriage."

The word landed like thunder.

Elira froze. Kael's hand slipped beneath the table to find hers again—but even he looked uncertain.

"We propose an official union," the Queen continued. "Between Crown Prince Kael and Lady Elira. To bind the realm. To bring peace."

Elira's heart pounded against her ribs.

Not like this.

Not here.

Kael's jaw clenched. "We haven't—"

The Queen lifted a hand. "The Council has spoken. Duty comes first."

Elira stood before she realized she'd moved.

"I am not a pawn," she said, loud and clear. "I will not be passed from chain to crown like some gilded trinket."

Gasps swept through the hall like wind before a storm.

Kael rose too.

"If she says no," he said, voice calm but firm, "then so do I."

The Queen's gaze iced over. "You would defy the realm?"

Kael smiled, too softly. "I've done worse tonight. And I might do worse still."

Elira stared at him, stunned.

"Are you sure?" she whispered.

He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear.

"For you," he murmured, "I would burn more than the sky."